If a deer is your spirit animal, then On Body and Soul is the film for you. A pair of deer, one doe and
one stag, steal the show from their human co-stars in this peculiar meditation
on life and love. Pardon the pun, but it’s a film worth fawning over.

Ildikó Enyedi’s On
Body and Soul is like a dream. Don’t sleep on this lyrical and profound
Hungarian drama that imagines the endless possibilities of love. A worthy
winner for the Golden Bear at Berlin earlier this year and Hungary’s official
submission in the Oscar race for Best Foreign Language Film, On Body and Soul creeps up and floors
you with its deep, strange embrace.

This delicate two-hander stars Alexandra Borbély as Maria, a
reserved and sedate quality inspector at a slaughterhouse, and Géza Morcsányi
as Endre, the house’s financial director. They’re an odd couple from their
first encounter since Maria’s obsessive-compulsive disorder and standoffishness
clashes with his forward manner. Love isn’t exactly in the air in this factory
drenched with the blood and souls of bovines.

Lovers wake, however, when the pair experiences the same
dream. Maria and Ender share profound joy and euphoria while becoming deer in
their subconscious and having better luck with love as non-human animals. The
pair begins to talk about their dreams and a warm, romantic bond forges as they
become intimate by sleeping together, in a sense, without physical contact.

Enyedi crafts a magical dream world that soothes the soul as
Maria and Ender become deer while they sleep. The performances of the deer,
which are completely natural and don’t have any hints of CGI, need to be seen
to be believed. These scenes are images of spine-tingling serenity as the deer
frolic in the snowy woods. Their physical contact and intimacy don’t try to
aspire to anthropomorphosis; rather, the deer offer an escape. Away from fear,
self-awareness, and vulnerability, the deer can simply let love run wild.

These snowy dreamscapes contrast with the sterile slaughterhouse
and the characters’ demure apartments. On the other hand, there’s a nice
symmetry to the performances by the human and non-human actors. The doe-eyed Borbély
is withdrawn and skittish, while Morcsányi’s forward performance embraces the
buck within. The film has a very droll sense of humour, too, that plays very
well off the actors’ straight-laced performances, particularly Borbély’s poised
and composed turn that consistently suppresses a smile.

Buoyed by the effective use of Laura Marling’s “What HeWrote” in its final act to contrast with the frequent silence and minimalist
score, On Body and Soul simmers
towards the full-realization of true love as the performances and aesthetics
blossom, coming fully to life in the final scenes. It took 17 years for Enyedi
to deliver On Body and Soul after her
previous film. Let’s hope the next one comes a little sooner.